


Freddy the Frog

by WackyGoofball



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Don't think so...., Euron is a dick, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Frog Dissection, I also know shit about science, I don't know why "Lab Romance" is no used tag but "Lab Bromance" and "Lab Sex" are, Lab Romance, Love Confessions, Romance, Romantic Comedy, So many tags, That walking Pirate Rockstar, Trigger Warning: Improper Frog Dissections, Tumblr Prompt, Where is the Lab Love?, because I don't consider myself funny, did I forget any important tags?, if you consider what I write funny that is, improper frog use, it's a tag now, mingled with a bit of dirty talk, nah..., so don't blame me for scientific inaccuracy and being very... vague, though that is hardly surprising, we are talking about Jaime Lannister aye?, yet again little surprising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11924676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WackyGoofball/pseuds/WackyGoofball
Summary: Brienne of Tarth never thought that dissecting a dead frog could be the greatest challenge she faced in life, but she didn't take into account that she has to fulfill the task with her lab partner, Jaime Lannister, who made it his personal duty to drive her crazy, or so it seems.Little did they know that Freddy the Frog would be the least of his troubles later on.I suck at summaries. Goodbye.





	1. The Fantastic Tale of Freddy the Frog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imagineagreatadventure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineagreatadventure/gifts).



> Hello everyone, thanks for looking into this story, which I was prompted to on tumblr. So... don't blame me, it was a prompt, OKAY??? ;) 
> 
> I gift this to the person who prompted me. imagineagreatadventure - thank you, and I hope you will like it despite it having grown into something rather... monstrous, LOL. 
> 
> The prompt was: "I can't believe you ropped the frog we're dissecting on THE FLOOR WHAT THE FUCK" for JB.
> 
> Anyway, I apologize for the improper use of dead frogs. I am generally very much against animal testing, but... FOR THE PLOT. That is, if you can call that *plot*, LOL. 
> 
> Where was I? Oh, right, warnings go as always: Wacky is no native, Wacky goes unbeta'd, Wacky doe not know what she is doing most of the time... if ever. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy anyway. 
> 
> Much love! ♥♥♥
> 
> P.S. I love all frogs and I am sorry to have involved them in this fic.

“Jaime, we are supposed to dissect this frog – _not_ play with it!” Brienne snarls, going back over the charts another time in the vain hope that Jaime is finally done fooling around instead of moving on with the task of dissecting the animal in order to figure out its cause of death.

While Brienne could imagine more pleasant tasks than that, it is a necessary deed for their survey. If the frog died because of the injection, the whole project may be in danger. However, Jaime Lannister seemingly doesn’t see the severity of the situation and instead loves to fool around regardless of the circumstance.

Brienne is counting the days from now on. Soon, the survey will be over. They will have gathered the results, and after that, she will be free of the shackles of being stuck with Jaime Fuckin’ Lannister, lab partner and pest at the same time, whose one purpose beside being his snarky self seems to be to bring her to the breaking point.

_And he is damn well close to achieving the latter._

“Don’t be so disrespectful,” she adds.

Brienne was never particularly fond of doing those kinds of tests. She would rather do without testing on animals, but apparently, this kind of frogs contain a natural antidote to the Shaking Sickness. If the last survey goes well, the institute can apply for a bigger budget to run a large-scale test series.

 _However, that is not going to work if the frogs suddenly die for no known reason_ , Brienne thinks to herself, gritting her teeth.

“ _I_ am not being disrespectful,” Jaime argues. “ _You_ want to tear him apart!”

“ _That_ is what we have to do from time to time in the course of the experiments we do. And I honestly can’t believe I have to point that out to a man who apparently holds a degree and has been studying just those frogs and their antidote for just as long as I did,” Brienne retorts angrily, readjusting her rubber gloves.

“But it’s a poor little frog. Look at him!” Jaime insists, pointing at the green-yellow amphibian with brown dots, lying on the metal plate before them.

“We are supposed to dissect it in order to find out how it died, to be sure that it was not part of the antidote extraction that caused its death. We are already far behind schedule and I would rather not prolong this any longer than necessary out of _respect_ for that animal’s life. But we keep losing time because you rather screw around with it. So let’s get over with the autopsy, write the reports, and be done,” Brienne snarls, giving Jaime a stern look that falls flat on the stubborn man, however. Jaime seems by far too enchanted with the dead frog lying limply on the table in front of them.

“But look at his loyal eyes!” he argues, feigning distress. Jaime lifts the frog’s head to face in his direction. “Freddy, my friend, no one understands us here.”

Brienne knows she should not be surprised at his behavior anymore, the man takes fun in those kinds of things all the while, but to see Jaime now lifting the frog to his face as though it was his pet irritates Brienne even though she has seen that sort of behavior what feels like a thousand times before already.

“ _Freddy_. Now it already has a name!” she snaps, pinching the bridge of her nose. Brienne still asks herself how she came to deserve to be thrown into one team with Jaime Lannister, who seemingly made it his obligation to drive her insane with his constant jesting and joking at her expenses.

 _But it’s only until this research project is over_ , she reminds herself, repeating the mantra she has been saying to herself again and again for the last couple of days, because he became nearly unbearable as of late.

_It’s going to be over soon. Over. Over. Over._

“Yes, Freddy the Frog!” Jaime chimes, seemingly pleased with himself for the creation.

Brienne rolls her eyes at him. “Couldn’t you at least have picked a name that is slightly… _creative_?”

“It has a nice ring to it,” Jaime argues. “I think he likes it.”

He looks at the frog again, seemingly waiting for a reaction.

Brienne lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. “Now put the frog back down so that we can run the autopsy. I don’t want to prolong all this just because you find it funny.”

“I am very sincere about Freddy.”

“Jaime, I know you just want to provoke me to anger, but it’s not working,” she warns him, narrowing her big blue eyes at the man who seemingly takes the greatest pleasure in her discomfort.

“Please. Of course you are angry, look at you!” Jaime argues, pointing the frog’s wobbly front leg at her. “Even Freddy can see it and he’s dead, as you keep pointing out.”

“Are you seriously playing around with that poor dead animal now?”

“I’m giving him one last fun time before you open him up to check out his guts,” Jaime replies, rolling his shoulders with nonchalance.

“Well, the moment is over,” Brienne tells him sternly. “Now put the frog back down. We have better to do, well, _I_ have, I don’t know about you.”

“We can’t just cut him open like that,” Jaime pouts.

“What? Why?!”

“That is without honor. We have to give him a proper…,” he means to say, but Brienne cuts him off harshly. “We are _not_ making a funeral for a frog.”

Brienne can feel heat rising to her cheek and the thick column of her neck. She knows she should be used to this madness by now, but Jaime always seems to find another way to drive her crazy.

“Yeah, I know, but before we run the autopsy, we might at least say some prayers or so,” Jaime argues, puckering his lips, looking much younger than he actually is. Brienne was very much irritated once it dawned on her that despite the fact that he is older than her, Jaime acts like a bratty teenager more often than is good for him – and for her foremost.

“You proclaimed yourself to be an atheist the first time I met you!” Brienne retorts. And that was something she didn’t even care about. Brienne didn’t even want to _talk_ to him the first time they met, but for _some_ reason, Jaime picked her as his target of every jest, every slight, and every mean comment he could think of – and hasn’t let go of that since she made his acquaintance upon starting at the institute.

In the end, Brienne’s biggest regret as of late is to ever have attended the reception party that was organized by the institute when all new scientists were welcomed to the team. Because that is how she got stuck in the _Seven Hells of Laboratory_ with the smugly grinning and way too handsome Jaime Lannister who, ever since that night, made it his one goal in life to bring her to the verge of wanting to strangle him.

Because during the reception, Jaime already dragged her into his troubles, and that was what seemingly sparked the idea in the boss’ minds to team them up in the first place, thus dragging her down the _Seven Hells of Laboratory_ ever since that party.

_I really better should have stayed home that night._

Needless to mention that wearing a _stupid_ dress to the occasion was the second regrettable thing that happened that night, though upon reflection, it was the third. The first two being ever having made the acquaintance of Jaime Lannister, and the second being not having run while she still could.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s tradition to say some prayers for the dead. And that one is as dead as it gets. So, say some fancy last words – for Freddy the Frog. He deserves it,” Jaime says, pulling Brienne back to the lab with neon lights painting their skins lighter than they are, to the smell of antiseptic, and the buzzing of the freezers and other technical devices spread across the room.

“How would you know?” she huffs, though Brienne doesn’t even know why she bothers trying to reason with the man. It never worked before. Why would it now?

_It must be a kind of madness indeed._

“He’s a poor little froggy, what was he supposed to do? Slay the Frog King? Become the Frogslayer?” Jaime huffs, amused. “I already have that title, and as it appears, I won’t be sharing any time soon.”

That is a scandal meant to haunt him till the end of his days, Jaime is pretty sure of that. And all he ever did was to report Aerys Targaryen for his illegal activities when no one else was going to do it. Jaime never felt sorry that everything was taken away from the Targaryens’ institutes thereafter. Surely, he felt for the people who lost their jobs, but to him, it was more important to get that madman away from accessible diseases and antidotes he could sell to the highest bidder

He’s heard the man before – Aerys wanted to spread sicknesses like wildfire, though gladly, it never came to it.

If that means that Jaime will forever be known as the Kingslayer, then that is so. It is the least of Jaime’s concerns, to be honest. He stopped caring about other people’s opinions a long time ago, and has no intention of picking the habit back up. All the whispers have faded to a bearable blur ever since he started at the _Oldtown Institute_. So long he keeps around the wench, it is only the judgment in her big blue eyes he has to deal with, and Jaime feels like he can do that very well.

And Jaime has his way about Brienne so that even the oh so judgmental glances fade to annoyance or short-lived amusement far sooner than later. All of that is still by far better than keeping around people who don’t care about him, and to whom he still has to behave as though he cared about them in any way. With Brienne, he doesn’t play nice, and still, the wench won’t whisper behind his back, which is perhaps one of the rarest gifts Jaime has ever received following the _kingslaying business_.

“And anyway, he gave his life for the greater cause, and fought as bravely as he could. Freddy deserves some respect for that, Brienne,” Jaime goes on, focusing once again on the fun of the situation, the lightness of it, and _of course_ , on taking his dear pleasure in the wench’s scowls and huffs, fading blushes and being unable to speak in sheer anger, frustration, and being flustered.

Brienne sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly.

“I can’t believe this… So, just so that you stop: Freddy the Frog, we thank you for your service to the sciences. Thanks to you, we hope to be able to find a treatment for this virus threatening people’s lives. We owe you our gratitude. Bye.” She looks at Jaime. “Satisfied now?”

“Not _satisfied_ , perhaps, but it’s more than I ever expected from you. Though it’s still _pretty_ weak. You really have to work on your delivery. You have to put more passion into those speeches, Brienne,” he jokes, looking back at the frog. “I mean, I did not know Freddy very well while he was still alive, hopping around, croaking and whatever else it is that frogs do day in, day out. He was an honorable frog, I am sure. Thus, his loss is a great one.”

“And what tells you that this frog wasn’t getting into fights with other frogs all the while? Or that it was whoring around the whole time instead of being productive? Where do you take that knowledge from? Hm?” Brienne snorts.

“Because frogs don't do that?” Jaime replies, looking back at Freddy. “You wouldn’t do that, would you, buddy?”

“That is precisely what they do. Frogs do not live in monogamous relationships. They use their time to reproduce and not build life-long relationships of social significance, as far as I am concerned,” Brienne points out to him.

“How would you know? Maybe he did!” Jaime insists, before he starts stroking the dead animal’s back again. “Freddy, even in your death, the people make fun of you. I bet you were a good frog. You must excuse my lab partner. The wench doesn’t know better. No manners in that one.”

“So can we start with the autopsy at last? I want this to be over and get on with the research. We have a schedule, just in case you forgot,” Brienne urges her lab partner, though she knows it’s no use. Jaime knows by now that she is annoyed, and that is what only ever feeds his motivation.

“No,” is the only reply she receives, however.

“What else is _possibly_ there to say or do?” Brienne demands.

“C’mon, show a bit of sympathy for this poor little fellow,” Jaime says, wriggling the frog at her again. “That would be a good start already.”

“Just stop,” Brienne groans.

“Freddy, you have to excuse my lab partner once more. The wench is just pig-headed stubborn and cold as ice when it comes to these things,” Jaime sighs, shaking his head at the dead animal still in his gloved hands.

“Stop calling me ‘wench’ and move on. I want to be done,” Brienne tries once more.

She wants this survey to be over. She wants to wrap up the reports and then head to a new task, away from this particular lab room, and more precisely – away from Jaime Lannister and his newly found dead friend Freddy the Frog.

“Look at this poor thing. Now we have to take him apart, open him from navel to chin…,” Jaime says, shaking his head, but Brienne cuts him off rather harshly, “Frogs don’t have navels.”

Jaime waves his free hand at her. “I’m aware. It’s a figure of speech.”

The wench always takes the fun out of everything, no matter his efforts to make the woman loosen up a bit. And the Seven will know that Jaime tried, Gods know he tried, still tries, daily, by the minute, with little to no results, sadly.

Jaime yet has to get to the bottom of one of the greatest secrets known to humankind, and no, it’s no cure against Greyscale, _though that is most certainly on the top of the list, too_ , it’s finding a way to make Brienne of Tarth laugh in all earnest.

He managed to tease some smiles out of her already, though those were mostly only just signs of light amusement or misgiving towards him, but real laughter? Jaime did not succeed yet, no matter his efforts. However, being a scientist, Jaime knows that the only way to get to the bottom of a mystery or problem is to try again and again and again, with a new approach each time, until you achieve the desired results.

Some may consider that a kind of madness, but it’s the kind of madness that can potentially move you forward when everything else is pulling you back. Progress is only achieved once you start moving in a direction and only ever stops once you dare to stand still. And standing still is no option, and neither is it that Brienne of Tarth goes on without ever having laughed at him in all earnest, or else he shall be damned.

“Let’s just get started,” Brienne sighs, holding out her hand to Jaime to gesture at him to give her the frog, but Jaime carefully puts the animal down on the metal plate himself. She quickly grabs the scalpel to get going before he has a change of mind, but before Brienne can even bring the blade down on the frog’s skin, Jaime shouts out, “You are doing it wrong.”

“No, I am _not_. I am doing it _just_ the way it is done in the books. This is not the first autopsy I do on amphibians. This is the standard procedure,” Brienne points out to him, glowering at her lab partner in green scrubs. However, much to her dismay, Jaime seems less than unimpressed, one hand resting on his hip as he replies with a smug expression, “Let me tell you, you are holding the scalpel all wrong. I am _pretty_ sure.”

“I am _pretty_ sure you are wrong with that assessment, however,” Brienne argues, turning back around to finally get going with the autopsy, _but of course_ , Jaime won’t let her.

He just doesn’t know when to stop.

_He never does._

“Let me show you how it’s done, wench,” Jaime argues, moving into her path, his gloved hand tightening around her forearm to keep Brienne from using the scalpel. Jaime already means to start moving her arm to guide her, but Brienne pushes him away as roughly as she can, sending the man stumbling backwards a few steps.

“You will stay right where you are,” she snarls, eyes wide, breath hitched, and anger boiling hot in her veins.

“Then give me the scalpel and I’ll do it for you,” Jaime retorts.

“I won’t let you screw around with sharp objects ever again. The way I know you, you will cut poor Freddy open, scoop out the guts and fling them in my face only just to have a good laugh,” Brienne argues.

“I would never do such a thing to Freddy,” Jaime replies with a grin.

“But to _me_ you would? Now, _that_ is reassuring,” she huffs.

“Of course I would, for mistreating Freddy the way you did and still do, not taking the poor frog seriously,” Jaime jokes with his typical sort of grin.

“ _Gods_. Just why did they have to put us in the same team as you? How did I deserve this?” Brienne moans, putting the scalpel down with a chink as metal hits metal. She twists on her heel, letting out a long sigh in the vain attempt to control he breathing.

Jaime chuckles softly at the memories returning to him. “Well, the reception was a bit of a mess. An entertaining mess, but a mess no less.”

He already feared that he joined the most boring institute he could find, only to run into that stubborn woman who was _not at all_ boring, no matter how Jaime twisted or turned it. And that was when he, for the first time in a long while, felt like he made the right choice.

Ever since he started working with Brienne, some many things seem more bearable.

“A mess _you_ started,” Brienne corrects him.

“I did not! _You_ were the one to splash your glass of champagne on me,” Jaime laughs, calling that oh so perfect moment to mind. Brienne’s face was simply priceless. The fury still heating her cheeks, while cold soberness flashed across it as she realized that the champagne got spilled.

“After _you_ behaved yourself in a way that was absolutely intolerable,” Brienne hisses.

That moment was pure torture, just like everything preceding it. Jaime just wouldn’t leave her alone, and at some point, Brienne simply snapped. She snapped and tossed the champagne at him and his fancy suit by _Tyrell_.

“Well, that may have been the case, but it was on you that you aimed so poorly that you got some champagne on Ebrose,” Jaime snorts.

That moment was pure gold. The boss of the institute looking at her as though Brienne had just committed manslaughter right on the dancefloor. The wench blushed all shades of red at once, the only noise in the room having been that of the champagne dribbling down Jaime’s jacket to plop to the ground below.

_Pity for the suit, but the result was oh too rewarding._

“Again, you were the one who started it,” Brienne insists.

“All I ever did was to compliment you on the dress you wore,” Jaime argues.

Which made that whole thing ever the more ridiculous for him. Jaime paid her a compliment, _Seven Hells_. She should know by now that Jaime doesn’t throw out praise like confetti. He made her an honest compliment, but of course, the wench took it all wrong from the very beginning.

_Not that much has changed about that since…_

“By which you leave out everything else that surrounded the compliment. Because that was preceded by you questioning me about whether I was taking steroids or if I was a guy dressing up as a woman after all,” Brienne hisses, flashing her teeth at him.

“… That may not have been my smartest introduction, but to my defense, I only saw your muscular back. But hey, I did pay you a proper compliment. The blue suited you about well enough – and that is what I told you, not that you ever thanked me for it, quite on the contrary,” Jaime argues.

“That is _not_ the point,” Brienne insists. “The point is that thanks to this encounter, we were put in a group as means of punishment.”

“I find my own company quite rewarding, so maybe you just need to change perspective every once in a while.”

“As you asserted yourself, I got the champagne over Ebrose, and he didn’t look particularly pleased about the matter, so you really think he wanted to give me a reward by putting me in the same research group as you?” she huffs.

“No, he _was_ pissed, that much is for sure, but I think you should finally see that I am rewarding company despite the fact that he meant it as punishment. Be true to yourself, wench, who would put up with you if not me?2Jaime argues with a grin.

“I don’t need anyone to _put up with me_ ,” Brienne snarls, hugging her flat chest.

Even less so a man who seems to believe that she should be grateful that he _bothers_ to make fun of her. Just how far can Jaime be out of his mind at times? Because that is what irritates Brienne perhaps even more than his utter foolery on a daily basis: One moment, he acts like this, the next, he is the one to badmouth one of the colleagues for whispering behind her back, as though it mattered, and as though he cared, because Jaime, outspokenly, prides himself not giving “a single flying fuck” on what other people may mutter behind his back or closed doors.

“The lion does not concern itself with the opinion of the sheep,” was the sentence he kept repeating to her over and over whenever Brienne called him upon it.

_So why should he care about me? And how am I to believe that he does so in all earnest if he acts like this most of the time?_

Jaime lets out a sigh, resting one gloved hand on his hip while holding out the other palm to her. “In any case… Give me the scalpel to send Freddy to the Seven Heavens or whatever diety frogs have. Do they have a Frog God? Frogod? Do you know?”

He already means to snatch it from her hands, but Brienne pulls away. “I am _not_ giving you the scalpel back. I told you that I don't leave you with sharp objects around _precisely_ because we have already been there before and I could still lynch you for it.”

“It was an _accident_ ,” Jaime argues, though he can’t hold back the laughter once the memories return to him.

“For that it was an _accident_ , you laughed pretty hard,” Brienne points out to him.

She will never forget that moment in a lifetime, though she rather would, because that was about as shameful as it is right at this moment to have to discuss with Jaime Lannister about the fate about a dead frog they are meant to dissect to wrap up their test results.

_At this rate, I will be stuck here forever!_

“Because it was genuinely funny?”

“It was not!” Brienne insists.

“It was to _me_ ,” Jaime argues vehemently, though he has to try hard to contain his laughter, to which she retorts, “But _not_ to me.”

“I was trying to be helpful!”

“You were _not_ , though,” Brienne huffs. “Which is little surprising because you mean nothing but trouble.”

“I am a hot mess,” Jaime says with a grin, gesturing down himself with the kind of attitude Brienne is accustomed to by now, but still finds beyond irritating.

Obviously, Jaime doesn’t have the issue of lacking self-confidence. Objectively speaking, Jaime Lannister is a very handsome man. Lean frame, thick blond hair, muscular for all she can say after once walking in on him as he changed and had taken off his shirt, which was awkward to say the least, and tall, perhaps not as tall as her, but still rather tall compared to most other men. And Jaime knows that. He makes no secret of it.

On the contrary, Brienne knows that she is unattractive, too tall for most men to cope with, her hair only ever behaving itself if she gels it back only to make her look even less feminine, flat-chested if only just to emphasize that circumstance, and mannish from head to tow. And that is something Brienne is aware of ever since she was a young girl and her nanny Roelle broke the news to her.

And sometimes, Brienne wished she could have the same confidence Jaime just happens to have. As much as she values being factual and seeing things for what they are, she would like at times to not always be confronted with the reality of her looks and that this forces her to act in a certain way, forces her to perceive herself in a certain manner.

“You are just a mess,” Brienne snorts, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“ _Please_ , we both know that I am sizzling,” Jaime laughs.

“If you now lick your finger to put on your skin to make a sizzling sound, I will walk out that door,” Brienne warns him.

“You take the fun out of things,” Jaime groans, but then shifts his weight to the other leg, studying her for a long moment before he goes on to say, “In any case, coming back to that little accident, I can only repeat it: I didn’t know I nicked your waistband.”

“ _Right_ ,” Brienne huffs, rolling her eyes.

“But I held your pants in place like a true gentleman would,” Jaime chuckles.

Brienne stares at him, eyes impossibly widening. “Are you out of your mind?!”

“What? Was I supposed to let everyone in the lab get a look at your panties? How dishonorable would _that_ have been of me, you tell me?” Jaime argues.

At some point, he doesn’t even know how that ever possibly happened, but somehow Jaime accidentally slashed down with the scalpel, which ripped the azure waistband of her scrubs, and once he realized, he held on.

_Merely out of reflex, of course._

What was most definitely _reflex_ was that something was on the verge of rising in his pants when he stood before her to shield her from view, whereby Jaime came the closest to her that he did up until this point of time.

_Damn the woman and her cotton panties._

“ _Honorable_ would have been not to fling around with a scalpel in the first place,” Brienne argues. “Or rather, it would have fitted the behavior of someone who knows not to play around with scalpels, which is something I thought people learned as children, apparently.”

“I was not _playing around_ with it. You constantly tried to take it away from me, so I had to make some more daring moves to keep you from it. So, talk about improper behavior with sharp tools. This is entirely on you, wench. And if you were being honest with yourself, you’d admit already that this was all kinds of hilarious, actually. Thus, you might just as well laugh it up instead of being a downer even now. I mean, how much time has passed since?” Jaime insists, to which Brienne replies with a blank facial expression, “Three weeks.”

“ _Really_? I thought it was longer,” Jaime frowns, wrinkling his nose. He wants to run his fingers through his hair, but once he feels the gloves pulling on his follicles, he quickly abandons the gesture.

He honestly thought it had been a while longer since that little incident, because truth be told, Jaime lost count of the many times he recounted just that moment in all of its glorious details, and how thrilling he found that, _every damn time_.

“Three weeks, four days… I will spare you now the hours and seconds to the count,” Brienne tells him as drily as she can. She blows out air through her nostrils, somehow trying to contain her anger.

_It’s just this project. After that, it will be done, it will be over._

She can go on with her life, her studies, and she can hopefully request to work in the lab furthest away from the one Jaime will be transferred to.

“So, now that we revisited some of our worst memories ever since we were tossed together as research partners, how about we return to the task and move on with the autopsy?” Brienne exhales, feeling heat rise to her cheeks, and she can’t afford to visibly blush now, or else she will never see the end of it.

“Nah, I quite like this game right now. It’s far too entertaining to see you trying oh so desperately to bring me to reason even though we both know it’s not working,” Jaime laughs. “Ever.”

Brienne is fairly certain that he wants to grab the scalpel again, but to her utter shock, Jaime goes for the frog once more and picks it up before she can get to the task.

“Jaime!” she shouts.

“I have an idea!” he says with a feigned bright smile.

Brienne presses the back of her wrist against her forehead, somehow trying to contain herself. “How much do I have to pay you so that you just forget about it?”

“Please, I am rich.”

Brienne rolls her eyes. She should have seen that one coming, she knows.

“Kiss him,” he then says, which has Brienne gaping at him. “What?!”

“Kiss the frog! Just like in the fairytale! That would be a proper goodbye for Freddy. C’mon, one quick smooch!” he teases her, holding the dead animal out to her.

“I will _not_ kiss that damned frog!” Brienne growls, pushing his hand away.

And that is the final nail in the coffin for Brienne. She always knew that with Jaime, she would have to accept some many slights coming her way, but this is too much.

She didn’t join this profession to end up back in high school where the boys only ever tormented her with calling her names and shouting “Brienne the Beauty” or “Beast” after her as she walked down the hallways as fast as she could.

Jaime Lannister won't put her back in that place.

 _Never again_.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Quick smooch. No tongue required.”

“Stop it!”

“Freddy deserves some love,” Jaime insists, holding the godforsaken thing out to her again and again.

“Kiss that frog yourself if it means that much to you!” Brienne replies through gritted teeth. Jaime looks back at the frog with a grimace. “I don’t think Freddy was gay.”

“It doesn’t matter what sexual orientation the frog may have had. I am no frog, in case it went without your notice. So it doesn’t make a difference.”

Sometimes Brienne can’t believe that she even bothers to try to reason with this man. There is simply _no_ way to achieve it.

“C’mon!” Jaime keeps going without relent, meaning to lift the frog to her face once more, but Brienne has had enough. She slaps his hand away as harshly as she can, not caring whether it hurts or not. Jaime seemingly didn’t see her move coming, so the frog slips out of his hand and smacks to the ground with a wet slapping sound.

For a moment, the two stand there silently, staring at one another, then the frog, then each other again.

“I can’t believe you dropped the frog we’re dissecting on THE FLOOR WHAT THE FUCK!” Jaime shouts, already kneeling down to pick the frog back up, calling out in a dramatic manner, “Freddy, nooooo!”

Brienne looks around nervously. “Would you shut it at last?”

“Shut it? _Shut it_! And that after what you did to poor Freddy,” Jaime argues with fake vehemence, before he shakes his head. “You just had to let him down one last time, huh?”

She doesn’t react at all. Jaime grows as he picks the frog back up, stroking over its dotted back once more.

“Freddy, my man, you don’t deserve any of this. And I don’t deserve any of this either. See, I have to put up with this daily!” Jaime grumbles, though a grin plays around his lips, but then he turns to Brienne once more. “Apologize to him.”

“I will not apologize to a dead animal that never had the mental capacities in the first place to understand figures of human speech, and is apparently too dead to hear it even if it could. This has gone on for far too long already,” Brienne snaps. “Now put the thing down.”

“You tossed him to the ground! Who does that?!”

“I accidentally knocked against your arm to send it flying to the ground. That was not on purpose. And in any case, the frog can no longer feel anything. _That_ is the point. The frog is dead!” Brienne almost yells, but then catches herself, banging her hand on the metal table instead to somehow keep herself from hitting Jaime across the face.

“You are heartless, wench. I expected more empathy from you. Poor Freddy.” He looks at the amphibian. “Maybe I should keep him.”

“No, you are _not_ keeping him!”

“But I could put him in a jar,” he argues.

“Like Selyse does with her weird experiments on dead baby pigs?”

Jaime makes a face. “She is a creep.”

“Precisely. Do you want to be one too?” Brienne points out to him. Jaime wrinkles his nose, contemplating, as he looks at the dead frog once more. “Nah. True again, but I don’t like the thought that he gets opened up and the guts spill out… he’s a good frog. Look at his friendly eyes!”

“Why can’t you just _stop_?” Brienne groans.

“ _Why_ would I?” Jaime replies, mimicking her voice, only to beam at her again. “C’mon, give him a kiss to apologize.”

“I won’t give that dead animal a kiss. How many times do I have to repeat it before you understand?” Brienne shouts.

“Don’t worry, I am fairly sure he doesn’t have any frog diseases. Or else they wouldn’t have taken him to extract the antidote from him.”

“I am aware,” Brienne snarls. “But I just don’t care whether it spreads diseases or not…”

He cuts her off before she can finish the thought, however. “But you should, upon reflection. Maybe he could give you Greyscale, still. I mean… we don’t know how Greyscale reacts with frogs. Maybe that one has Greyscale and we’d never know of it because the symptoms may be different. Have we done studies on this yet? Whether frogs can get Greyscale? And then transmit it to humans? Maybe that should be our next project! Just imagine the headlines if we get some solid results! Killer frogs! Zombie frogs! That would be epic!”

“I will count myself lucky once we are through with this test here, because that means I can finally request another partner and move on with life,” Brienne tells him, blinking once the words travelled past her lips.

She didn’t want to tell Jaime just yet, fearing that he would torpedo her plans only just to annoy her. However, the shock flashing across his features achieves all but one thing – he is speechless for once, which is a rarity, because Jaime Lannister seemingly doesn’t know when to stop.

“You just want to abandon me?!” he asks, gaping.

_Now, that came unexpected._

“I thought that you tried anything within your powers to achieve just that,” Brienne huffs, trying her best to hide her irritation at his apparent upset about the news. “In fact, I expected you to do a happy dance now that you get rid of ‘the wench’ you have to put up with all the time.”

“You are such a hypocrite. I was just trying to have some fun with you, loosening up the mood a bit,” Jaime argues. “I didn't want to chase you away. This is supposed to be fun!”

“By telling me to kiss dead frogs? Or cutting open my waistbands _by accident_?!” Brienne argues, tilting he head slightly to the side. “Yeah, great fun for me right there.”

“Not _frogs_ , just this one, Freddy, my friend,” Jaime laughs, but then bites himself on the tongue, realizing that Brienne is absolutely sincere at this moment.

She _seriously_ doesn’t want to be lab partners with him anymore. And that realization hits Jaime far harder than he ever thought it would. At some point, he dared to take for granted that the woman is too stubborn to quit, no matter his jests.

And a part of him honestly thought she had long since caught up to the game and learned to see it as such.

_So much to making assumptions without running proper tests… that is most definitely not the scientific method._

“Which assures me ever the more that I do right by requesting another research partner or team once we are through with this,” Brienne hisses, gritting her teeth, long since no longer caring whether Jaime can see her upset or not.

She is upset, shall he laugh about it all he wants. There is no point in hiding it anyway.

“You already requested another research partner without even telling me?” Jaime asks, blinking rapidly.

He can’t believe this. And here Jaime thought that the wench and him had a special connection of some strange sort, he will admit. However, he didn’t think she would just run away first chance she got. Brienne seems too stubborn for that.

“ _No_ , I asked to be transferred to another research project once that is wrapped up. The Seven will know whom I will be teamed up with,” Brienne says, her frown deepening as she studies his reaction.

It does seem genuine, but why would Jaime be upset about any of this?

“And in any case, I didn’t think you ever considered to go with me as a research partner another time. To my understanding, we were put together because they wanted to punish us, and we both were counting the days,” Brienne goes on, hugging her chest defensively. “Or am I wrong?”

“Well, I still think the Gods have sent you to me to punish me for my crimes and make me humbler…,” he means to say, but she cuts him off in a sing-song voice, “Not that this worked in any way yet…”

“I am on a good path, though,” Jaime insists, puckering his lips.

Considering how Jaime only half-heartedly applied to this institute following the scandal, he had to realize over time that it was working with Brienne that somehow ignited that spark in him again to take the work seriously. Even though he still wants to have his fun in-between, but that does not in the least diminish his resolve to do his job again, and no longer letting the nickname of the Kingslayer wear him down.

“Are you?” She cocks an eyebrow at him.

“I tend to think so. Some time back, I never would have bothered to care about those little froggies here, yet… here I am,” Jaime explains with a grin. “I didn't care about much of anything until you flooded me with righteousness and all those other annoying things that you are supposed to do to be a decent person.”

Jaime only ever started caring about something again once he set out to gain Brienne’s approval or disapproval, depending on the circumstance.

He wanted her approval on being a proper scientist who wants to do his job.

He wanted her disapproval on most of the foolery he did in her presence until now to tease some reactions out of her, to make her laugh, make her see him.

_However pathetic that may be, thinking about it now…_

“And I am supposed to have _inspired_ that in you? Because surely, that behavior you display right now is not what I would want you to have at any point,” Brienne snaps.

“You bring out the best and the worst in me all at the same time, wench,” Jaime chimes. “You are my little paradox… well, not _little_ in terms of stature, but you know what I mean.”

“Well, that _paradox_ of yours will resolve itself once we wrap up this project,” Brienne retorts, narrowing her eyes at him.

“So now that we are clear on the matter that we want to get over with this, we should do just that – dissect the frog, wrap up the reports, and then move on with our separate lives as soon as it is possible,” Brienne goes on with a sigh, finding her will to fight him fading fast.

Jaime looks at her for a long moment, and Brienne cannot read him at all. He looks at her blankly, contemplating something, whatever it may be. She bites her lower lip, waiting for some kind of reaction, but then his eyes drift away from her and back to the frog once more. “… In any case, it’s decided now. I am keeping him. He is my friend now, if you don’t want to be.”

Brienne blinks. “Your _friend_?”

“Well, you are leaving me, you just admitted it yourself. Therefore, I have to find myself someone new, and Freddy may be the best alternative, because the other guys around here are idiots or assholes… or both,” Jaime tells her, but then looks at her with slightly tilted head. “Of course you could become my friend again if you either told authorities that we will stay lab partners – or you kiss the frog. Those are the only options I see.”

“I am _not_ kissing a dead frog. End of story,” Brienne flat-out replies, gesturing with her hand wildly, not knowing how else to keep her frustration and anger in check.

This is all too much. For that it’s supposed to be over far sooner than later, Jaime seemingly uses any opportunity now to make her last days as his lab partner living hell, _with a damned dead frog if need be_.

And here she dared for only just a second that he could be sincere about the matter.

“Which means that you will tell authorities to…,” he means to say, but Brienne cuts him off harshly, “Not happening either. I won’t just change my mind about something that is obviously to both our benefit because you want to keep your target to bully.”

“I am not bullying…,” Jaime means to object, but then the door behind them opens, shutting him up before he can get to it.

“Kingslayer! Why am I not surprised to have you lurking around here still?” a man’s voice rings out. Jaime and Brienne turn their heads to see Euron and his mates approaching. That man seemingly considers himself the _King of the Lab_ , though he has not brought about any sort of scientific breakthrough that would justify the title yet.

“You mean to say, Octopus?” Jaime asks, crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at the red-haired man.

“It’s time that you get the hell out of here.”

“… Why?”

“Your lab time is up. We have the slot after yours, in case you forgot to check the schedule… or are indeed unable to read. Rumor has it that you struggle with that a bit. So get out of here. We have to go on with our project,” Euron replies as he almost waltzes across the white floor tiles.

“Well, we are not done yet. So perhaps you just get ready while we finish this up. The lab is big enough,” Jaime points out to him.

“Nah-ah,” Euron argues, wriggling his index finger at him with a grin. “You are getting out, right now.”

“Well, we still have to clean up before we can go,” Jaime argues, gesturing at their table where they still have their instruments spread out.

“You can do that after we are done, I don’t care. We booked the lab, and we are using it now. If that means you have to stay until after we are done… that is on you, not me,” Euron chuckles softly, more than satisfied with himself over this foolery.

Brienne shakes her head.

 _Men_.

“We’ll just put that one in the fridge and then we will leave you to your research,” she says calmly, taking the frog from Jaime before he can even bother to react. Brienne puts the dead animal down on the tray before putting it back into the fridge.

“Still stuck with the frog tests, huh?” Euron snorts, amused, to which Jaime comments, “It's always rich coming from a guy testing on what was it? Sea slugs?”

“It’s a special kind of fish only found near Pyke that you likely don’t know,” Euron tells him with a smirk.

“I bet,” Jaime huffs, mimicking both his facial expression and posture, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the other man.

“We should head out, then, and return once they are done. C’mon,” Brienne tells Jaime, though he is too busy glaring at Euron. They had a rivalry going on since Day One, which Brienne only ever found childish at best, from both sides.

Euron is at the institute for a longer time than they are, so he feels as though he has to guard his territory, as it appears, whereas Jaime seemingly wants to show Euron that it is not his territory, which thus results in fights for dominance over the most unimportant things ever, such as taking up each other’s slots and the like.

While Brienne doesn’t perceive her daily quarrels with Jaime as particularly adult, _far from it, sadly_ , she finds the interactions between those two men even more childish than what they have going on, _which is telling_.

“Listen to her,” Euron laughs, leaning against one of the many cupboards by the sides of the room.

“Freddy better still be there when I return,” Jaime mutters as he starts to walk.

“What?” Euron frowns, seemingly having caught that.

“You are supposed to leave the frog in the fridge,” Brienne translates. “We still have to run the autopsy to determine its cause of death.”

“I see,” Euron says, nodding his head slowly while licking his lips, which always has something predatory to it that irritates Brienne every time. “Oh, before I forget it: Rumor has it that you will be looking into new projects soon enough. Is it that you will be joining us? Because let me tell you, if you want to join at this point of time, you will have to prove yourself worthy of it.”

Brienne tilts her head to the side. “ _Worthy_?”

The other men laughing has her fairy convinced that she has a good guess on what they would have in mind. For that she knows that she is ugly, Brienne is still baffled more than often at the fact that men won’t cut those kinds of comments while around her.

_One should think that being ugly, mannish, and tall is good for that at least, but no such luck._

“Why would she want to be on _your_ team anyway?” Jaime huffs, his eyes narrowing more and more. “Why would _anyone_ if she had a choice not to?”

“Why would she not?” Euron argues, cocking an eyebrow at Jaime.

“Because in contrast to some people around here… right in this room, even, she has a brain and uses it every once in a while?” Jaime retorts. “Which will surely prevent her from joining a team such as yours?”

“I am fairly sure that I will not join your research group, because it is not my field of expertise and interest,” Brienne replies, ignoring Jaime’s rivalry with Euron. She doesn’t want to get dragged into any more trouble than she already is.

“I could pull some threads if you _really_ wanted to join, though. I mean, someone has to compensate you for sticking you in one team with the Kingslayer of all people,” Euron chuckles, seemingly only ever enjoying pissing off Jaime, which makes Brienne the perfect tool to achieve such, she knows. However, Brienne is not willing to let herself be pushed into that role.

“I will have to see,” Brienne tells him calmly. “It depends on what Ebrose has to say, but that only comes out once we finish up this project here.”

“Well, rumor has it that you are just prolonging the moment of truth because you have the hots for the Kingslayer. And let me just tell you, that is poor judgment on your behalf, if it is true,” Euron laughs, his friends cracking up with him.

“What?!” Brienne gapes, eyes widening.

“Why else would you be taking that long finishing up that project?” Euron huffs, amused at her shock.

“That is because we had some setbacks in-between – and because my research partner here likes to fool around instead of fulfilling his tasks,” Brienne says, glowering at Jaime, who only glares back at her in turn.

“Well, you better see to it that you wrap this up,” Euron laughs. “Would be such a waste.”

He gives Jaime another look that he only ever returns with a self-certain smile and narrowed eyes.

“I most definitely will,” Brienne huffs, motioning towards the door. “C’mon, Jaime. We should leave the _gentlemen_ to their experiments.”

“The Kingslayer and the Kingslayer’s Whore. What a lovely bunch the two make, ha?” Euron croons.

“What was that?” Jaime asks, turning on the heel at once, nostrils flaring.

He has no trouble dealing with a cocksure man the likes of Euron Greyjoy, but he just overstepped the one boundary he shouldn’t have looked at from afar, even.

“Could you repeat that another time? I fear I didn’t quite catch that!” Jaime snarls, the corner of his mouth twitching as he glowers at the other man, who just smiles back at him, casually leaning against the counter.

“The Kingslayer and his Whore,” Euron chimes. “And hey, I didn't come up with it, but I find it more than fitting.”

He looks at Jaime, then at Brienne, only to laugh once more. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if he took you from behind while you are alone here in the lab, spread you over that table over there, pull down your pants, and…,” Euron means to say, but he never gets to finish the sentence. Jaime means to lunge at the guy, but before he can get to it, Greyjoy goes to the ground after Brienne punched him squarely in the jaw.

Euron definitely didn’t see that coming, just staring at Brienne towering above him, gloved fist still raised in the air.

Jaime opens his mouth to say something, but that is when Brienne whirls around, grabs him by the wrist, and pulls him out the door.

Both are surprised that apparently no one follows them, but Euron’s friends are likely way too shocked at Brienne’s sudden reaction to even bother to care to chase after her – if they aren’t afraid to suffer the same destiny as their self-proclaimed leader.

The two keep walking wordlessly until they reach another corridor, but then Brienne stops abruptly, letting out a ragged breath.

“You just…,” Jaime says, still rather taken aback by her sudden outburst, and Brienne completes in a similar manner, “… punched him in the face.”

“You have a nice right hook,” he comments, puckering his lips.

“That is not at all helpful right now,” Brienne groans.

While Jaime talked about her being his paradox to bring out both the best and the worst in him, there is no paradox for her – Jaime Lannister only ever brings out the worst in her, there is no way of denying it now.

This is by far too unprofessional for Brienne, yet, here they are.

“Don't worry, he’s not going to report you. That would hurt his oh so fragile masculinity by far too much. And if you hadn’t done it, I would have at the next moment,” Jaime says, shaking his head. “Damn, woman, you really have some mad reflexes.”

“I don’t care. This is…,” she mutters, but then groans. “Argh!”

She throws her hands up in the air, in desperate need to release some of the tension stored in her body.

“Calm down, wench, this is…,” Jaime means to say, but Brienne cuts him off.

“No, I am done staying calm,” she snaps, so agitated that she rips off her gloves and tosses them at Jaime’s head.

“Hey!” he pouts as he removes the gloves and lets them fall to the ground.

“ _Why_ did you have to play stupid and not follow through schedule?! Just _why_?! We would long since have been out the door. We never would have run into that asshole. Because Euron Greyjoy was the last thing I needed today,” Brienne rambles, adrenaline still rushing through her system.

It’s enough that she has to put up with Jaime, but now to have another nemesis in Euron is the last thing Brienne needed. She just wants to work, she just wants to do her job. Brienne already had the personal torpedo her work here because it was Jaime’s foolery at the reception that got her stuck in a team with him instead of anyone else. And now, things may well repeat themselves – and all that because Jaime Lannister has picked her as her target.

“That wouldn’t change anything about the fact that he dares to call you that,” Jaime points out to her.

“It doesn’t matter!” Brienne shouts. “I don’t blame you for that I punched him, that was entirely on me, but we never would have been in this situation if, _for once_ , you would have behaved like a man your age, like a friggin’ adult, instead of playing around with a dead frog!”

“How was I to know that Octopus would be a Killjoy instead of Greyjoy?” Jaime argues.

_He just won’t get it!_

“It is _not_ about Euron, it’s about how you seemingly make it your life purpose to drive me insane and prove to be unproductive when we both know that you can do far more and far better. When we both know that you actually care about the job you are doing a lot more than you let on with your attitude. _But no_ , ever since you got tossed into a team with me and showed some of that, you seemingly decided that it’s time to prove the opposite ever since, for some _damned_ reason,” Brienne snaps, the words finally pouring out of her as though the punch just opened up the dam, destroyed it, tore it down until all water could spill out in a massive wave.

 _Enough is enough_.

“I was just trying to loosen up the mood a bit, because you always act like you have a stick up your ass. Seven Hells, woman, brighten up, you got to punch Euron Killjoy! We should totally get a drink and toast to this happy circumstance,” Jaime argues.

“ _No_ , and that is exactly why it’s truly for the best that we two are going to part ways once that project is wrapped up. That is not the kind of behavior I normally display. This was highly unprofessional, whether Euron is an ass, which he is, or not. That is, if they don’t have me fired after all,” Brienne growls.

“They won’t fire you, please,” Jaime huffs. “They made grabby-hands to get a hold on you. They couldn’t bake a candidate better than what you have in your CV.”

“Doesn’t matter. I honestly had enough,” Brienne hisses.

“The frog was over the line?” he snorts. “ _That_ is the breaking point, really?”

She should be mad at Euron, not him and the little frog incident, at least in Jaime’s humble opinion.

“Not the frog per se, because apparently, I am used to your childishness in that regard, but you telling me to kiss it was what was over the line for me – and the fact that even now, you don’t seem to realize that this was really one blow too many,” Brienne retorts, nostrils flaring.

In the haste with Euron, she almost forgot, but now it’s right back on Brienne’s mind, and it only adds fuel to a flame burning deep in the pit of her stomach.

Only Jaime Lannister can bring her to the breaking point, as it appears. Only ever him.

“It was a joke,” Jaime insists.

 _What is she talking about_?

“Precisely. A joke. And not a very funny one, I may add,” Brienne hisses, gritting her teeth at him.

“Not one of my best, I will admit it…,” Jaime wants to say, but Brienne won’t let him. “Just stop already!”

Jaime looks at her, stunned. Brienne, wanting to use that small opportunity, steps a little closer, puts her left hand on her hip and takes a steady stance. “I get that big joke about the fairytale turned upside-down. Great. Awesome. Make the wench kiss the frog and maybe that will make her a pretty princess, but of course, not happening. Ha-ha. Great joke, Jaime, great joke.”

“That’s not at all what I meant,” he argues.

_Where does that come from?!_

“I don’t care. I am honestly fed up with this. I am fed up with you and your intolerable behavior and the apparent lack of respect I thought was not the issue because deep down, I thought you truly respected me at least on that level, but… no such luck.”

She shakes her head, finding her powers fading, the adrenaline washing out of her far too fast. Jaime always tires her with this sort of behavior, but this was just the icing on that bitter cake. Because Brienne wanted to believe that he cared in some way, only to have him joke even now, only to have him not realize anything at all.

“And now I will go home. Tomorrow, I will finish the autopsy whether you tie yourself to that table to protect Freddy from it or not, and finish my reports so that I can hopefully get a new project as soon as possible. I am done. Done!”  she curses, before she pushes away from him and starts to walk away.

“Brienne! Wait!” Jaime calls after her. However, she is already running off.

Jaime stands there for a moment, still trying to wrap his head around this. He never thought Brienne would react to a joke like _that_. She always has a thick skin, almost too thick to get underneath in any significant way. However, that comment did it to her? Jaime honestly didn’t see it coming.

Though then again, he also didn't see it coming that Brienne wanted to get out of the double team, away from him. So perhaps it was poor judgment on his behalf after all.

However, none of that matters right at this moment – he has to clarify this problem, Jaime knows. So, he starts walking again.

“… Where to…?” he mutters as he walks through the corridors. “Oh, right.”

Jaime jogs down the hallways until he reaches the changing rooms. He just walks inside without further prelude, calling out, “Wench?”

Brienne rounds the corner, readjusting her black tank top, almost falling backwards over one of the benches there once she sees Jaime rushing inside.

“What are you doing in the women’s changing rooms?!” she shrieks.

“Is someone else here?” he asks.

_Probably something I should have checked on before… but oh well, it is an emergency!_

“No?” Brienne replies, blinking.

What is he doing here?

Why did he come after her?

Didn't he achieve what he wanted?

_Just why can’t he leave me in peace even when he got me to yield?!_

“Well, then it shouldn’t bother,” Jaime says, shrugging his shoulders.

“It bothers _me_. Get out!” Brienne snaps, walking over to her locker to gather her things.

“Nope,” is the simple reply she gets, but would rather do without.

She slams the locker shut – loudly, keeping her back to him. “Just leave.”

“Not happening, sorry,” Jaime snorts. “You know you don't get rid of me that easily.”

“Jaime, I honestly don’t want to keep fighting you. That’s not worth it,” Brienne groans.

He nods his head. “I totally agree.”

“Well, we will keep fighting if you don’t get out right now. I need a break, alright?” she sighs. Brienne just feels drained.

“I don't want to fight you.”

“Neither do I, but you keep pushing me,” Brienne argues. “Today just proved it. You seemingly cannot stop once you picked your target, and apparently, that is what I am to you.”

“You are my lab partner. Well, soon-to-be-ex-lab-partner, according to you. something that we did not yet properly discuss just yet, because…,” he means to say, but Brienne cuts him off harshly. “Jaime, enough already!”

They achieved nothing today, other than getting into a fight over a dead frog and punching Euron Greyjoy in the jaw. Brienne is here for work, not for those kinds of things, despite the fact that she can well imagine that this only ever assured Jaime that he wants to keep her around for his own entertainment – and Brienne is done serving as such.

“I honestly thought you got it that I was just joking.”

“Just because you think you are joking doesn’t mean that…”

“That what?”

“That it can’t be over the line more often than it should be,” Brienne says.

_That it can hurt._

Even if it’s a woman who looks like she can take any slight because she is so very used to it thanks to her looks, who stands so tall and strong that it doesn’t occur to most other people that it can pain her, too.

Jaime grimaces, sucking the inside of his cheek into his mouth. That is not at all what he expected when he walked into the lab in the morning, whistling _Six Maids in a Pool_ , if only just to have her hiss at him to cut it out to bring up such bawdy songs.

“I didn’t mean for…”

“Oh please. You said it yourself: This sort of thing is what makes your day, and honestly, Jaime? I am done with that. You can take the work you do seriously, but seemingly not working with me, and that means we are both best served by letting this rest from now on and just focusing on the job, because that is what we both are here for, doing our job good and proper. You said it yourself. You hate it that people don’t realize that are sincere about this. Well, you won’t be if you keep that up. So… better to make the cut now.”

“And you don’t discuss that with me beforehand?”

“I don’t have to discuss that with you.”

“I am your lab partner.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not uncommon to switch teams, especially if you get tossed into a research group as means of punishment. And to say it once more, I do not get the upset you feign right here because you make it no secret that you want to push me as far away as possible. Why else would you keep jesting with me the way you do?” Brienne argues.

“That’s not at all what I meant to achieve.”

“Then what?”

“I didn’t want to achieve much of anything. I just…,” Jaime mutters, biting his lower lip.

Until today, he really didn’t mean to achieve anything. Everything was the way it always goes, until Brienne dropped the bomb that she wanted to quit him as her lab partner. And that changed the game entirely, he has to realize.

Thus, it seems to be high time to change the rules, too.

_Now or never. Standing still is no option, right?_

“You just what? Were trying to have some more fun? Yeah, well, newsflash, Jaime, I am not here for your sole entertainment. I thought I made myself clear by now,” she hisses, turning around, back pressed against the cool metal of the grey-painted lockers, relishing the cooling sensation against her heated skin.

She watches Jaime for a long moment as he seems to “wrestle the dilemmas” for once, instead of her, which serves him right in her opinion, but the short-lived feeling of superiority is over as soon as it came to bloom, because something shifts in Jaime’s expression and posture, to something that Brienne cannot read, no matter how hard she may try.

“ _You_ did, and now _I_ want to make myself clear,” Jaime says.

Brienne can do nothing much but stare as Jaime strides over to her, his moves confident, certain, with a goal in mind.

He pushes her against the locker with a small thud before pressing his lips to hers. Brienne blinks, trying to think of a reasonable, _scientific_ explanation how they got from A to B, from fighting over dead frogs to his lips on hers – and her finding herself kissing back with a kind of fervor she rarely – if ever – felt while exchanging heated kisses with a man.

How did A cause B?

How did they end up in this place, right at this moment?

How is that fact now?

They deepen the kiss effortlessly, almost blindly, for a moment completely forgetting about the fact that they are standing in the women’s changing rooms, which do not have the most pleasant smell, mingled with an odd mixture of all kinds of perfumes and deodorants, Euron Greyjoy and his gang, and even Freddy the Frog. It all disappears into a blur overshadowed only just by the sensation of their lips colliding.

Brienne breathes into his open mouth, blinking at the sensation of his hands on her thick hips, and the apparent fervor with which he presses against her lips, needing it, needing her.

Because, since when does Jaime Lannister need _her_ of all people?

For all she knows, he prides himself not having to rely on anyone, always managing himself, doing his thing no matter what people may say, or what she may have to say in particular. Yet, here she can feel it radiating from his fingers, seeping into her skin from where he touches her.

They break away after a long moment, chests heaving, Jaime’s grip on her hips loosening, though his fingers still stay on the almost non-existent curve of her hip.

The two look at each other, breathing hard, likely both surprised at the sudden change of the rules.

“W, what?!” Brienne croaks, her mouth still lax after what just happened, after what they just did.

“I suppose I should be relieved that you kissed me instead of Freddy,” he laughs, now sounding almost nervous. “Far more rewarding.”

 _Jaime Lannister – nervous. What a scandal!_ Brienne thinks to herself. As he himself tends to repeat ad nauseum: Jaime Lannister is neither afraid, nor nervous – ever.

_Yet, here we are…_

“If that is one of your weird attempts of making a joke of…,” Brienne means to say, but Jaime is quick enough to interrupt her, “That was no joke. This here right now is no joke.”

He looks her deep in the eye, and for a moment, Brienne can’t seem to catch her breath, finding herself rigid from the intensity of his glance, the ardor in his voice.

“Jaime, I…,” she mutters.

“Let’s be real, woman: While I couldn’t care less about the opinion of others, I guess it’s fairly obvious to anyone but us that our bantering is not just the result of a deeply felt hatred, but actually a growing attraction – if even Euron Fuckin’ Greyjoy caught on to the news before either one of us did,” Jaime huffs. “This is like ignoring all laid out facts in a research, right?”

“You make joke about me the whole time,” Brienne points out to him bluntly. “How about that _fact_?”

“That is what I just do? And in any case, I always thought that maybe if I tried hard enough, I would bring you to laugh. But you are a tough nut, woman,” Jaime snorts. “No underlying intentions beyond that. Trust me in this.”

“If you want me to apologize for that…,” she means to hiss, but he cuts her off, “I am _not_. I am just trying to say that we are… perhaps very good scientists, but rather blind to evidence when it comes to what’s happening around us outside our little lab… or right within it, upon reflection.”

“So what? You mean to tell me that after playing around with a dead frog, you realized your hidden feelings for me?” Brienne huffs.

That would be even more of a scandal than Jaime Lannister being nervous. Brienne knows the facts of her body, she knows the facts of her popularity, and she knows the odds of a man the likes of Jaime Lannister being attracted to her. To say the least, the chances are not very high, if at all existent.

That leaves two options, either Jaime just delivered the pitch for his most cruel joke, or he just presented a piece of evidence to a newly founded paradox between them.

“No, obviously not, though I would account Freddy as being an unexpected catalyst,” Jaime snorts, though the amusement soon fades from his features upon the realization that Brienne just glowers back at him in turn.

“I suppose what shook me through was when you said you wanted to quit the dynamic due consisting of us two,” Jaime argues, which has Brienne wondering what of the two options may be true after all, because of the two options, option two seems still so very unlikely, despite the fact that she is still trapped between him and the locker, her lips still singing from the bruising kiss they just shared.

“See, I honestly thought you were trying to chase me away,” Brienne points out to him.

“I wasn’t trying to… well, at first, _maybe_ , I will admit it, but that was because you considered me to be nothing but scum.”

“Not scum, just annoying.”

“Case in point. However, even if I may have had some many misgivings in the first place, which may or may not have resulted in me trying to chase you away, once we got know one another a little better… I thought it was friendly banter, and that you saw it in that way, too. It never occurred to me that you still considered that my attempt of getting you away from me,” Jaime tells her with the kind of tone that has Brienne believe that this is true, that this is fact, though common sense should tell her that it’s even less possible than Jaime Lannister behaving himself for a week.

“You don’t realize half the time that you are over the line,” she points out to him defensively.

He shrugs. “A family trait, I assume?”

“Don’t blame genetics for it,” Brienne huffs. “That’s a cheap excuse. Even for you.”

“I am trying, but the point is… as you said it, I had some sudden realizations, shall I say?” Jaime tells her. “You will have to cut me some slack for not having figured out all of that new data just now.”

“And so you decide to get territorial with Euron despite not having evaluated the results just yet?” she snorts.

“You _are_ aware that humans are rarely rational?”

Brienne laughs drily at that. “You are a living example.”

“Precisely. And let’s not pretend – you can be pretty unreasonable yourself,” Jaime huffs. “Running off like that, punching Euron in the jaw, which was clearly the highlight beside that kiss here right now, which was… exceeding any expectation I may have had before by far.”

Brienne makes a face. “You had _expectations_?”

“A vivid imagination, shall I rather say?” he laughs, and Brienne finds herself smirking, despite the fact that, rationally, she should still be mad, should realize that all of this is insanity, and that if she were right in her mind, she would not just stand there and ogle at Jaime as he keeps close to her as though he occupied that place for centuries, when in fact, any so such contact only came about a few minutes ago.

 “So… the point is… now that I know that you are far better a kisser than I ever thought you would be, having tested that now myself, it’d be such a waste _not_ to let that carry on for at least a while longer, right?” he chimes, cocking an eyebrow at her playfully.

“You are sincere,” Brienne says drily, not knowing whether that’s an assessment or a question.

“Perfectly sincere,” Jaime replies with a smile. “You see, with me it’s like that: I may take my time to make up my mind every once in a while, but if I have to decide, I make the decision at once and mean to follow through with it.”

“I always knew you were stubborn.”

“A trait we seem to share,” Jaime chuckles. “In any case. Think about it. You can be my Princess in Scrubs.”

“Even without kissing the frog?” Brienne snorts, not knowing why she plays along when everything inside her mind screams at her to interrogate, to reason, but it seems to be as plainly as this: Jaime is the one person who makes her forget about reason, who gets her into the most foolish of fights – even if it’s only just about a dead frog named Freddy.

“Well, so long you keep kissing _me_ , I will generously overlook that,” Jaime says with a grin, toying with the hem of her tank top.

“Most kind of you,” Brienne snorts.

Jaime chews on his lower lip, seemingly contemplating once more. Brienne blinks.

_Is that the moment where he will realize the reality of this situation and back out again?_

Not that she didn’t have that before.

“And really, I didn’t mean that as a slight against you. I meant it as a joke. I wouldn’t want to actually hurt you like that,” Jaime tells her, looking Brienne deep in the eye, to be sure that she gets the message the right way this time. “You are the only lab partner who’ll ever stick with me. How dumb would it be to chase you away like that?”

“Well, you almost managed,” Brienne huffs.

“But do you believe me that I didn’t mean for it?” Jaime asks, and Brienne cannot detect any sort of game in his voice, any sort of foolery.

Brienne swallows. “I suppose I will have to…”

“Or I could prove it to you,” Jaime says with a smirk spreading across his face.

“And how would you do that?” Brienne asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He kisses her again at once, grinning against her lips, easily falling back into a rhythm they didn't know existed between them until their lips collided.

Jaime really has to thank Freddy for it, as it appears.

While he didn’t know just how much he needed this, Jaime has to questions how he could ever live without just that contact right at this moment ever again.

So he better sees to it that his lab partner stays right where she is. 

Jaime hooks the index finger of his right hand through her waistband, giving it a teasing pull, but she covers his hand with hers. “Not now. Not here. We won’t feed the nicknames.”

“The Lion does not…,” Jaime means to say, but Brienne cuts him off, “Don't care.”

“Still a bit angry at me?” he asks, to which she snorts, “Not just a bit.”

“But let me tell you, this can be _quite_ thrilling.”

“Not happening. We aren’t even dating,” Brienne argues.

“Yet,” he adds. “But, to my defense, we had a lot of lab dates.”

“That doesn't count as dates,” Brienne huffs. “Just because we had takeaway in some corner or drank coffee at the cafeteria together doesn’t mean it is an actual date. You do know what qualifies as a date, don’t you?”

“I once took you out for a beer,” Jaime argues.

“Does not count either,” Brienne snorts.

“Oh, c’mon, wench, don’t leave me hanging here now. Not after you gave me a taste of what I could have had in a long time if we both had opened our eyes to the plain facts before the fateful day Freddy hopped into our lives,” Jaime tells her, fluttering his eyelashes playfully.

“No.”

“C’mooooon.”

“You could treat me a coffee now,” Brienne suggests.

“Coffee?” He wrinkles his nose.

Jaime was hoping for something entirely else, involving far less clothing, and preferably action in the horizontal direction.

“ _That_ may count towards a date, now that we… kissed,” Brienne says slowly, still trying to get accustomed to saying that – because it is now fact, though her hesitance doesn't go unnoticed by Jaime, since his grin only becomes darker upon the realization. “And once that is done, Euron will hopefully have crept out of the lab so we can tidy up.”

“And then we go to the changing rooms again and I go down on you?” Jaime suggests, beaming at her as he plays with the hem of her shirt again.

“Not very likely,” Brienne snorts, mentally cursing herself when she can hear the air catching in her throat.

“But not impossible,” Jaime argues.

“That would have to be some magical kind of coffee,” Brienne says. “And as we both know, magic does not exist.”

“Well, I can make it magical with my company,” he chimes.

“It is not nearly as rewarding as you make it out to be.”

“It is _far_ more rewarding than you let on,” Jaime insists. “The way you kissed back and mewled into my mouth, you sure as hell enjoy my company – a lot.”

Brienne shakes her head. “You go on believing that.”

Jaime rewards her with a dirty look, moving a little closer. “Kiss me again and I’ll prove it to you, _thoroughly_.”

“I need caffeine now,” Brienne says drily, hoping not to give away the game.

Because apparently, that is the fact of what is between them, too – that it is indeed a strange sort of game.

“So? Are you still switching teams?” Jaime asks.

“That is not out yet.”

He cranes his neck, studying her. “You didn’t talk to authorities yet?”

“I asked them for a new project. They said I could have one. I never specified what team I wanted to be part of,” Brienne explains.

“So, you didn’t want to abandon me after all, wench,” he chimes.

She sighs. “Can we debate on the ‘wench’ part?”

“If you call me your ‘lion’ from now on?”

“Then I rather have you call me ‘wench’ for the rest of your days.”

“Pity,” Jaime grumbles with a smirk. “But don’t you worry, you will hear me roar soon enough, like a true lion indeed.”

“That is not out yet,” Brienne huffs.

“I am fairly sure that this hypothesis will turn out true,” Jaime laughs. “Well, in any case, wench, now that you got a taste of that hot mess here, it’s only a matter of time until you can’t live without me ever again.”

“Tells me the guy who almost threw a fit when I told him that I wanted to switch teams?” she snorts.

“Tells you the guy who can see very well that you would rather take this to the bedroom already, if you weren’t such an honorable and normally way too prudish woman, despite the fact that you took quite a risk kissing here with me, though the door is not even locked,” Jaime argues. “But I’ll get you there, wench. Just watch. Watch and enjoy.”

“And what of Freddy being your new best friend?”

“He will always have a special spot in my heart,” Jaime says. “He brought us together. We are forever indebted to that little amphibian.”

“Freddy the Frog and Matchmaker.”

“I always knew he’d make a great wingman. Even without the wings.”

“Can we get out of here now? I really need a coffee, and out of here. I try my best not to stay for too long in the changing rooms.”

“Reasonable enough. Only the Gods will know what bacteria and fungi grow here,” Jaime says, making a face. “Though if you really wanted to see the horror, you should see the men’s changing rooms.”

Brienne frowns. “Why would I go there?”

“You already did before,” Jaime argues, pulling away slightly, to allow Brienne to move away from the locker.

“That was by accident, and I instantly headed out again.”

“Right, right, an _accident_.”

“Yes, an accident.”

“You wanted to see that goodness before you even tried the whole package,” Jaime laughs.

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

“At this rate, we won’t be dating any time soon,” Brienne points out to him as they start walking out the door.

“What? That is something you long since got used to, you won’t get to ditch me over that, wench. As I said, you won’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Is that a threat?”

“An educated guess, based on the research I already did,” Jaime laughs, wriggling his index finger around as though he was a head teacher.

“Ahhhh.”

They round the next corner.

“So? Just to determine the boundaries of our new survey: What is your stand on shaking it up in, say, the lab?” Jaime laughs.

“That if you want to do it, you will have to do it all on your own.”

“Car?”

Brienne shakes her head. “I will not answer that question.”

“But we have to determine the rules, the parameters!”

“We will conduct that survey in due time, fret not.”

“But I have no time to lose, wench. I already lost about a month! I have to catch up, fast. This is torture already.”

“Are you that impatient?”

“We are talking about me, of course I am that impatient. Don't act surprised.

“Well, I am not here to feed into your impatience. How did you say? I am supposed to inspire better behavior in you? How about you learn some patience?”

“Nah, I will just inspire the right behavior in you so that you give in to all of my requests.”

“That is statistically… _very_ unlikely.”

“Not once I got you in my bed. You won’t ever want to get out again. You will be wax in my hands.”

“One of the first rules that we should agree on is that you don’t say such things where people can hear us.”

“What? You want to hide me? Our secret love.”

“Don't be so overdramatic.”

“You want to deny our undying love for each other! Of course I have to be dramatic. That is a scandal.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“I rather say that I am unique – as are you.”

She smirks.

“Oh, and by the way?”

“Yes?”

“I get to punch some people in the face now, if they call you that name again.”

“That was a one-time thing.”

“It’s only fair if I get to punch someone now, too. Or else we won’t ever be even again.”

“Are you really that antiquated?”

“I am very traditional,” Jaime argues. “And even if not, the point is this: If we are having our twisted version of the Frog King, the least you can do is to leave me to save the damsel in distress every once in a while.”

“I am neither a damsel, nor am I in distress. That is a plain matter of fact.”

“That still means you need to be saved.”

“I can save myself.”

“Not from me.”

“That… is true,” Brienne says, blinking once it dawns on her that truly, she rid herself of Jaime Lannister, and neither cares to do it, because that game… it’s thrilling, it’s fun, and for some reason, she starts to forget about the slights and comments already, if only for the easiness of the moment.

And truth be told, this new research area is something Brienne cannot deny interest in any more, though that is obviously something she will not let him know at once, or else she would never see the end of it.

Sometimes, or so it seems, your annoying lab partner is the one partner you can't do without, even though you would rather do without.

The paradox of love, or so it seems.


	2. Epilog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little glimpse at how things go from where we left off with last chapter, no more, no less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around the froggy madness another round, LOL. 
> 
> Much love! ♥♥♥

_**Three Months Later…** _

 

“Wench, you are late. Coffee is getting cold already!” Jaime shouts as he sees Brienne approaching him by the small table by the windows in the cafeteria of the _Oldtown Institute_.

While everything took a sudden turn for the two since the Day of Freddy the Frog, the two were perhaps most surprised themselves at how effortlessly they eased into their new sort of routine, because apparently, not much changed about their interactions, safe for Jaime being even more lewd in his comments, now with the goal of teasing some very certain reactions out of his lab partner.

However, beside that, they act as though nothing changed, when in fact, everything did, and while both are eager not to let on on that circumstance, they are glad for it, because it brought something to their lives that they didn’t know was missing until they found it come to life caught between a wooden bench and a gray-painted locker.

Brienne sits down on the seat across his, while he slides the Styrofoam cup over to her.

“Sorry, had to pick something up,” Brienne says, running her fingers through her hair. Jaime is more than pleased that she lets her unruly hair show every now and then, seemingly having gathered some confidence ever since Freddy hopped in and out of their lives. She no longer cares if the people find her hair a mess, because Jaime keeps telling her that he likes it just like that, because she looks much more like herself when she has her hair like that.

“You can’t just _not_ show up in the morning,” he scolds her, taking a sip from his sugary coffee that is already lukewarm thanks to the long wait time. “I was fully expecting some satisfaction of certain _biological needs_ and you were not there to do that.”

Brienne rolls her big blue eyes at him. Ever since he got a taste of just that action, Jaime can’t seem to get enough of it.

“I told you time and time again that the little incident in the institute’s showers was a one-time only occurrence – and will by no means repeat itself ever again,” Brienne tells him bluntly, lips wrapped around the cup to take a long sip.

“I wouldn’t call it a little incident,” Jaime mutters, giving her a teasing look. “For that, you were screaming far too loudly.”

“Shush,” she whispers.

“What? They know anyway that we are doing it.”

“I would still rather not have people in on where we do what is our private business,” Brienne hisses. Jaime laughs at that. While Brienne long since let go of most of her insecurities while they are in private, only ever having flashes turn up every once in a while that he can quickly hush out of her by kissing her, and telling her the plain facts that he wants her, needs her, and won’t let go of her ever again, she is still rather shy in private.

Though Jaime knows by now that Brienne really just cherishes the private, and wants to shield what they now share among themselves from the glances of the others.

“Right. But in any case, you can’t just go off without telling me where you are,” Jaime argues, puckering his lips, feigning upset.

“Of course I can,” she snorts. “I don't have to have you aware of every step I take. don't be ridiculous.”

“Then what did you do without me? Other than thinking about me?” Jaime laughs. “Because that is the one thing I can always be certain about. It’s one of those wonderful facts, so easy, yet so powerful.”

“A lot of things, which had apparently nothing much to do with you,” Brienne tells him, sticking out her tongue slightly. “You are by no means the only thing on my mind.”

“We could change that rather quickly,” Jaime chuckles, only for his grin to turn darker when he allows his foot to playfully glide up her leg, which has Brienne jolt oh too deliciously. Her expression is the third best thing in the world, the first two being kissing her and whatever it is that they do in the bedroom – or one of those other rooms Jaime manages to convince her of himself and his apparent biological need for her.

“Not in the friggin’ cafeteria, are you mad?” she grunts, kicking her leg to the side to rid herself of him.

“You long since know that,” he snorts, leaning back in his chair slightly, relishing the faint blush creeping up her freckled cheeks.

“Sometimes I just can’t believe myself that I put up with you,” Brienne sighs, shaking her head.

“You put up with me because you know what I can put in…,” Jaime means to say with a lewd smile, but Brienne cuts him off before he can get to it, “I will stop you right there.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if we were in another location,” Jaime chimes, chuckling softly as he takes another sip of the colder growing coffee.

“Well, but apparently, we are in this location,” Brienne argues.

“Right, where we had our first official date. Makes you nostalgic, doesn’t it?” Jaime sighs, putting on a dreamy expression that has Brienne only ever roll her eye at him.

Truth be told, it still catches her off-guard to find out that this is her reality now. Waking up next to him, waking up with him wrapped around her waist, or waking up to him wanting to have another round, depending on the circumstance and stamina, which Jaime surely is not lacking by any means.

However, Brienne grows more and more accustomed to the idea precisely because she realized that this reality is far better than the one that they had before the Day of Freddy the Frog. In this reality, she has a man who apparently wants her, needs her, even, not just her approval, but her as a person, her by hi side – and that as much as Brienne had to learn she wants and needs him by her side.

Because apparently, it is Jaime who makes her feel like loosening up, leaving the schedule aside for a while, if only for a quick kiss in the hallways, or stealing away before closing time to get home fast enough because they need each other desperately.

_Apparently, statistics can be very wrong at times. Or perhaps they are just overrated when applied to real life instead of just the real of the sciences._

“… In any case. You are getting a reward today,” Brienne says, which has Jaime sit up in his seat at once.

“A reward? For outstanding sex? I always knew there was a prize for it and that I would win it one day,” he laughs.

She shakes her head with a smirk. “No prize for that, sorry.”

“I will consider it as such, no matter what you say,” Jaime argues, hugging his chest.

“If you keep it up, I will just take the reward back with me to my place,” Brienne warns him.

“Speaking of which, when are you going to give in and just move into my place so that we can just go home and get to bed at once? We are losing valuable time,” Jaime points out to her.

It has been a recent topic of debate, though the two have yet to conduct a survey about the matter, or make a list, as it appears, because there are so many factors weighing in at this point that both don't know what position they are arguing for or against by the end of the day.

“And I already told you a number of times that we will not rush this through just because you want to speed through all the steps.”

“I just want to take the initiative.”

“Don’t you always?”

“That is my kind of charm.”

“Just that it is not charming.”

“We both know you want to be with me the whole time. You just play the hard-to-get, as always,” Jaime huffs, amused.

Though truth be told, he enjoys that kind of game. It makes winning ever the more rewarding. And that is perhaps the greatest thing about this new set of rules between them now: Jaime feels like winning almost all the time. Because now, even getting into an argument can be very rewarding once they make up in all the delicious ways that he could only ever imagine while they were only just lab partners.

“I don't want to have that discussion right now. As I said, it’s about the reward, not your sudden life-changing plans,” Brienne points out to him.

 “Fine, consider the discussion delayed. I should probably better ask you after you turned to goo in my arms after yet another round of fucking you senseless. It will be far easier to convince you then,” Jaime says in a lower voice, the blush on Brienne’s cheeks already a small warm-up reward.

“And telling me _that_ torpedoed any plan of yours to actually pull off that trick. You played yourself, man,” Brienne huffs, bending down to fish something out of her bag, only to take out a big jar with moss inside.

“I am getting a jar? No swear jar, I hope? I always hated these things already as a kid,” Jaime grumbles. “Seriously, you better swear it all out instead of bottling it up. I should be able to tell, have been doing that for years, and see where it got me until I started letting it all out with you again.”

“No swear jar,” she assures him with a grin. “And in any case, you are not so badly off, are you?”

“Not anymore. But you let me swear… most of the time. And let’s be real, you swear like a sailor when you rock yourself into…,” Jaime means to say, but Brienne cuts him off, “What did I say?”

“Leave me some fun, c’mon.”

“I give you far too much slack already,” she huffs. “Anyway, back to the jar that is no swear jar.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I thought it would be a nice gesture to compensate your loss of Freddy the Frog,” Brienne goes on to say.

“Man, that autopsy nearly had me in tears. Though I am glad he died of natural causes after all,” Jaime says, tapping the flat of his hand against his chest. “Freddy, my man. I always have him right here with me.”

“ _Precisely_ , so I thought I would fulfill your dream and get you a pet friend, but one that is apparently _not_ dead,” Brienne says, before she turns the jar around to reveal a small green frog with yellow and brown dots on the back, which looks very much like Freddy did. “Picked him up at the pet store today. He’s yours.”

Jaime grabs the jar with both hands, letting the jar slide across the table, almost planting his nose against the glass to look at the amphibian hopping around inside. “Oh, that is wonderful. I don’t know what to say. Look at you, Freddy 2.0.”

“Seriously? _That_ is the best you can come up with?” Brienne blurts out.

“What? That is what he is. And it is in loving memory of the little froggy who brought us together. The least we can do for our little matchmaker frog,” Jaime argues, tapping his index finger against the glass. “See? Freddy 2.0 likes it.”

“He’s your pet, so you get to name him.”

“Thank you.”

“That also means you have to tend to him and feed him. I will not do that.”

“But wench, that could be our little green baby, as a try-out for actual babies.”

“What did we say about leaping too far ahead?”

“I am just taking the initiative.”

“We see how Freddy 2.0 fares, then we see about everything else.”

“So that is no ‘no’ to little, blond warrior babies?”

“That is no ‘yes,’ if that is what you are trying to imply,” Brienne huffs.

“Oh, and I have some pleasant news for you,” Jaime says. “Not as pleasant as this most wonderful gift, but… still entertaining even for you, I am sure.”

“Which would be?” Brienne asks, blinking.

“Euron and his gang are in hospital.”

“How is that pleasant news for me?” Brienne asks, curling her lips into a frown.

“They somehow got themselves infected with their stupid little fish experiments. Some fungal infection that is highly contagious, because they didn’t properly clean up or so, at least that is what I heard from Samwell Tarly, and that guy has no reason to lie to me,” Jaime snickers, clapping his hand on his knee.

It still makes him laugh, no matter how many times he heard it by now already.

“Seriously?” Brienne gapes.

“Seriously.” Jaime nods. “They announced it this morning in public, and as I said, Sam confirmed another time. This is about as certain as your everlasting love for me and my great sense of humor.”

“I hope they will be alright?” Brienne grimaces.

Gladly, Euron never reported her, as Jaime predicted, seemingly not wanting to admit that he got beaten by a woman. While he still takes his pleasure in teasing them about “the Kingslayer and his Whore,” Brienne and Jaime found that they couldn’t care less.

“Euron can die for all I care, but it’s nothing too serious. It just gave them nasty rashes matching their nasty behavior. I would say that karma finally smacked the right people across the face,” Jaime chimes. “See? Everything turned out right for once.”

“Which is statistically speaking still very much a miracle,” Brienne points out to him, but then cranes her neck. “Would you keep the jar’s lid shut?”

“I want to take a good look at my new pet!” Jaime argues as he goes on unscrewing the cap.

“Jaime! Stop it now!”

“What? I am the Frog Whisperer. They listen to me.”

“Freddy was dead, you remember?”

“And Freddy 2.0 will surely not disappoint me. He’s a good frog, I can see it in his eyes,” Jaime mutters, taking off the lid to reach inside.

“You already said that about Freddy, First of his name,” Brienne argues, crossing her arms over her chest.

“He has Freddy’s spirit. And since that is surely true, this one will bring us one step closer to reaching the next level of our relationship, I am sure,” Jaime chimes. “You will be my new wingman, won’t you, Freddy 2.0?”

Brienne just watches as the little frog hops out of the jar, right on Jaime’s arm, onto the table, and then to the ground.

“Freddy 2.0! Heel!” Jaime shouts, already getting up from his seat to gather the amphibian, but the little animal has apparently other plans, hopping away from him before Jaime can catch Freddy the Second.

Brienne can do nothing but laugh, covering her face with her hands as her body keeps shaking with laughter as she sees Jaime chasing the frog, hoping to catch the thing before the service personnel comes back to see a frog hopping through the cafeteria, which is surely not allowed.

“Wench, help me already!” Jaime shouts, but he can only ever hear her laugh, which he would enjoy far more if not for Freddy 2.0 betraying him right now.

“Here, froggy, froggy. Here, froggy, froggy.”

“You had to opent eh lid.”

“Just help me already!”

“No way. He’s your pet.”

“Freddy, c’mon!”

Brienne leans her head back, chest still heaving from laughter.

The rules of her new life still have her baffled and confused some many times, but so long this is the outcome of their little experiment, she will gladly run along.

“Freddy! Come back!”

And all that because of frogs.

 

_**THE END** _


End file.
